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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25822846">a lullaby for tomorrow</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/makosinnergy/pseuds/makosinnergy'>makosinnergy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>sumitaba week 2020 [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Persona 5, Persona Series</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Autistic Character Written By Autistic Author, Autistic Sakura Futaba, Comfort, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Persona 5: The Royal Spoilers, Post-Persona 5: The Royal, also lesbians written by lesbian, ft. brief ichinose and kawakami cameos</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:07:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,783</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25822846</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/makosinnergy/pseuds/makosinnergy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Sumire's second year, and Futaba's first back at physical school; Futaba's disappeared during lunch, and she goes looking for her. They have a quiet moment together, while Sumire does her best to help Futaba cope.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sakura Futaba/Yoshizawa Sumire | Yoshizawa Kasumi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>sumitaba week 2020 [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1873126</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>46</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>a lullaby for tomorrow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>for prompt 'shujin'.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>You fumbled with the classroom door, stumbling inside with all the grace of a sixteen-year-old. Glancing at the classroom wall for the seating layout, you power-walked to your seat and collapsed into it. Smashing your face into your desk, you groaned. You love Sakamoto-senpai, seriously, but if he kept on trying to get you to run marathons during lunchtime, your feet were going to fall off. You reached for your bag, pulling it towards you and grabbing your glasses from inside. Even if it meant you couldn’t see your feet while running, not shattering your glasses was enough of an incentive to leave them behind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last few students trickled in, all out of breath from the Late Student Sprint (patent pending). A blanket of silence fell over the room as Kawakami walked in, taking her place at the podium. The class monitor called everyone to attention, and you rose with the crowd, bowing and then returning to your seat. She cleared her throat, beginning, “Good afternoon, everyone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good afternoon, Sensei!” The class cried in chorus. The familiarity of it all was comforting, and you felt a small smile begin to form on your face. This year was going to be good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did everyone have a good lunch? Everyone getting used to your seats? Good,” She said, moving to look at the student roll. Beginning to call names, you zoned out, thinking about what you could do after school. Maybe you could check out some cafes with Okumura-senpai? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Or maybe Futaba will wanna play games...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sakura? …Sakura?” Kawakami-sensei spoke of the devil, looking up when it didn’t appear. “Has anyone seen Sakura?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You jerked out of your doze, looking over at Futaba’s seat. It sat at the back of the classroom, right next to the door, and was currently unoccupied. Whispers broke out, and anxiety bubbled in your stomach. You faced the teacher’s podium and raised your hand, “Kawakami-sensei, I’m very sorry, but I need to go to the bathroom!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wh-- it’s the middle of roll call, why didn’t you go during--” She cut herself off, comprehension dawning. Expression turning serious, her face said, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Phantom Thief business?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>You reached back and twirled your ponytail; the signal. She sighed, and said, “Alright, fine, but take care, okay? Just this once.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Kawakami-sensei! I’m sorry for the inconvenience!” You stood up and made to leave, whispering following in your wake. It wasn’t anything you’re not used to, though. Kawakami nodded at you as you passed her; </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m leaving this in your hands.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I won’t let you down,</span>
  </em>
  <span> you promised internally, entering the hallway. It was empty, but not silent; the sound of chattering students, lecturing teachers and scraping chairs penetrated the walls. Glancing around, you took a deep breath to steady yourself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, Violet, think like Navi,” You muttered to yourself, beginning to power-walk towards the bathroom. “If I were an autistic cutie, where would I hide?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were three places that you </span>
  <em>
    <span>thought</span>
  </em>
  <span> she might be; the bathroom, the nurse’s office, and the library. There were a couple of bathrooms across the campus, but you had at most twenty minutes of Kawakami stalling before things got sticky. You needed to find Futaba before anyone else; </span>
  <em>
    <span>she could be having a panic attack or a shutdown, or --</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>You smacked your cheeks, shaking your head. </span>
  <em>
    <span>There isn’t any point behind thinking like that.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The bathroom was closest; then, you could make for the stairs and go to the infirmary. The library was the riskiest place to go, even if the infirmary was farther away; your excuses could only last so long, and you </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> didn’t want to deal with an angry teacher when Futaba might need you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reaching the bathroom and poking your head into the ladies’, you called, “Futaba?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your voice echoed throughout the space. Ducking inside, you took a look at the stalls -- all of them were open, and there was no-one hiding in them. Sighing, you left. Futaba didn’t make things easy, but that was part of why you liked her.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Infirmary next.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Taking the stairs two at a time, you did your best to ignore your shaking hands and weak knees. Maybe she’d been injured, or maybe she was hyperfocusing and hadn’t noticed the time; it was only her second day back, after all, she probably wasn’t used to the schedule yet. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah, that’s it,</span>
  </em>
  <span> you say to yourself, breaking into a jog the moment your feet touched the ground floor, </span>
  <em>
    <span>she’s just distracted. Nothing is happening.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Your vision swirls as you approach the nurse’s office. Your shoes squeak as you slide to a stop; thumping your first on the door, you don’t wait for an answer before you enter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yoshizawa-san?” The nurse blinked, sliding her chair away from her desk, “What’s wrong? Has something happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steadying your breathing, you say, “Futaba Sakura. Is she here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” She says, shaking her head, “Despite her special allowance, I didn’t see her during lunch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, then I’m sorry to bother you, Ichinose-sensei. Please excuse me…” You go to slide the door shut, stopping when she cries out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yoshizawa. Do you think she’s unsafe?” Her tone is serious. Thinking it over, you shake your head. Futaba is strong, and you know you’ve got an anxiety disorder; you’ve got to place your faith in her, and in the other Shujin-attending Phantom Thieves to keep her safe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think she’s having a meltdown or shutdown?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think she might,” You say, nodding. “She’s hypersensitive to noise, so lunch might have set her off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” Ichinose stood up, grabbing a lanyard off of her desk. “I’ll check this floor. You check the third. If we can’t find her after a quick sweep, I’ll make a P.A. announcement.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eh? You-- you’d trust me with that?” You stutter, mouth falling open as you step aside for her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She just laughs, reaches over and pushes your mouth closed, “You’re listed as one of her confidants. Don’t be so surprised; you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>close</span>
  </em>
  <span>, aren’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All you can do is nod and watch her walk away. You can’t trust her just yet -- not after Maruki-sensei -- but you know she’s competent enough to at least not royally fuck it up. You wish you could bring the other Phantom Thieves into this, but you can handle this on your own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The journey back to and up the flights of stairs passes quickly, and you’re on the second floor. You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> questioning the logic of Ichinose, considering the faculty office is here, but considering being kind of weird is a requirement of being at Shujin, you’re not exactly shocked. You walk to the library entrance as quickly as possible, doing your best to look like you’re meant to be there. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>CLOSED UNTIL NEXT WEEK, SORRY FOR INCONVENIENCE</span>
  </em>
  <span>, a piece of paper stuck to the door says. The inside is dark, and an experimental tug reveals that it’s locked. Looking at it closer, there are tiny scratches in the metal, and you smile. “Joker-senpai’s been teaching you some tricks, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But you’re not the only one,</span>
  </em>
  <span> you think, reaching into your blazer pocket. The lockpick isn’t an extension of your body like it is for Joker, but you’ve practised enough to be able to tackle a simple challenge like this. The lock gives way with a quiet </span>
  <em>
    <span>click</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and you resist the urge to cheer as you slip inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Futaba?” You call to the empty room, shutting the door behind you. The blinds are drawn, shrouding everything in shadow; here, with its soundproof walls, lack of people, and a steady internet connection, it’s an Oracle’s haven. There’s a </span>
  <em>
    <span>thump</span>
  </em>
  <span> from the back, and you feel your phone buzz. Taking it out of your pocket, you take a look.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>
      <span>Taba &lt;3</span>
    </em>
  </strong>
  <em>
    <span> is online.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>Taba &lt;3:</span>
  </strong>
  <span> study desk, farthest from the door</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, I’m coming,” You call, and make your way over. You blink at the empty desk. “Huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>Taba &lt;3:</span>
  </strong>
  <span> underneath</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You look underneath, and there she is; curled into the fetal position, pressed into the back of the alcove. Her hair has been thrown in front of her, turning her into a big orange blob. It looks </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> uncomfortable, but you’ve long since given up on trying to prevent her from getting scoliosis. It’s inevitable; Akira’s already made a new bank account for her surgery money. You sit in front of her, smoothing your skirt nervously. “Are you nonverbal right now? Do you want me to talk, or to text?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Pi pi pi.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>Taba &lt;3:</span>
  </strong>
  <span> yes and youre good to talk</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>Taba &lt;3:</span>
  </strong>
  <span> your voice is really calming</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You feel yourself blush, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m</span>
  </em>
  <span> supposed to be supporting you right now, dummy. No flirting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>Taba &lt;3:</span>
  </strong>
  <span> sounds like lesbophobia but ok</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taking a steadying breath, you begin, “Did you already have a meltdown, or do you think you’re close?”</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>Taba &lt;3:</span>
  </strong>
  <span> close</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>Taba &lt;3:</span>
  </strong>
  <span> im sorry for picking the lock</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>Taba &lt;3:</span>
  </strong>
  <span> but its rlly nice n quiet in here</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oi, look who you’re talking to,” You puff out your chest jokingly, “I’m Violet, the phenomenal Phantom Thief who’s gonna reach the world stage!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a quiet, huffing laugh from the Futaba ball. You smile, but it’s strained. You’ve never dealt with her like this before; it’s always been an inevitability, yes, but now that you’re here, responsible for keeping Futaba safe and doing what she can’t, you have no idea what to do. </span>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>Taba &lt;3:</span>
  </strong>
  <span> sorry im so pathetic</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>Taba &lt;3:</span>
  </strong>
  <span> fucking second yr freaking out</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not -- you’re not pathetic, for this. It’s only your second day, and school’s been pretty traumatic for you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s silent for a moment before your phone buzzes again.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>Taba &lt;3:</span>
  </strong>
  <span> i promised sojiro akira id do good</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ah.</span>
  </em>
  <span> You understood that -- and she knew you did. That’s probably why she felt safe enough to say it. Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt warm and fuzzy; you always felt like this, whenever she reminded you of how close you’d grown. You’d never have imagined you’d be so compatible when you first met -- she’d seemed like such an insurmountable force of nature, seeing all your moves just before you made them and guiding the Phantom Thieves to victory. You knew now that she was most definitely a force of nature, but a beautiful one.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>Taba &lt;3:</span>
  </strong>
  <span> are u waxing poetic in your head or something nerd</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oi, don’t tease me! I’m thinking,” You hide your smile behind your hand, thinking about what to say. You had a pretty good idea of what you could say, but it would be difficult to talk about. Sucking air through your teeth, you decided to open with, “I had my first panic attack when I was eight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Futaba shifted but remained silent. You continued, “We -- Kasumi and I -- were at school. There was a test later that day, and I wasn’t sure what to do. I’ve always been bad at them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At first, I was just scared and nervous. But then my heart started beating faster, and I couldn’t breathe. Then I was crying and shaking. Neither of us had any clue what to do. I’m pretty sure Kasumi was on the verge of crying, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So she told me to wait, and she’d go and get a teacher. Except when she turned around and started running, she ran straight into a pole.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Futaba snorted, shaking, and you held back your giggles as you continued, “So rather than do the normal person thing, she just stumbled and ran for the teacher without stopping. Her nose was gushing blood, probably broken and she just went ‘oh yes, this is fine!’ and kept on going!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You couldn’t hold it anymore; you burst out laughing, doubling over, and you could hear Futaba’s own attempts at stifling her signature giggle failing. You hiccup, desperately trying to get air. It’s not the funniest thing you’ve ever seen, but something about the memory of it -- Kasumi, nose dripping with blood, the teacher’s face, and the way you were convinced you were going to die -- dyes it a brilliant orange; the same colour as the sunset, of Kasumi’s phone case, of Futaba’s hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C’mere,” You hear, and jolt. Looking up, you can see Futaba peering at you through her hair. She repeats, voice strained, “Under. Now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You move immediately, sliding inside. You both barely fit inside, and half your body is hanging out, but you’re careful to not touch her skin, and she shifts to help you. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s weirdly big in here,” You say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” She chokes out, “It’s pretty convenient for the narrative, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You giggle, “So, feeling better? What do you need?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She groans, “A little. I… I was wondering if I could tell you a story, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go ahead,” You say, trying to keep your voice low.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um….” She wipes at her face, and you can see tear tracks; your heart squeezes in your chest, and you listen attentively as she begins. “The last time I had a meltdown at school was when my mum was alive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I was giving a presentation, and this kid started saying I got a word wrong, and I </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And, and,” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She chokes, and you leave you open hand hovering between you. She takes it and squeezes, biting her other hand and rocking. “The teacher fuckin’ </span>
  <em>
    <span>sucked</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and couldn’t control shit. Everyone joined in and made fun of me, and I started having a meltdown. Th-- they, they rushed the other kids out, still giggling while I sat there and screamed. Then they left me alone there, sobbing, while they went ‘nd called my mum. I was twelve.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her voice cracks, “She eventually came, but I was so scared. I couldn’t speak. I’d thrown all the chairs around and kicked some of the desks. I expected her to be mad at me, so I hid under the teacher’s desk. She asked me what I needed, but I couldn’t speak. She sat on one of the desks and started humming the Featherman theme.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sat there and waited until I was okay. So I felt better and got up and hugged her and told her I wanted to go home and we did. She got me ice cream and we watched Featherman all day, and the next day I heard her tearing into the school over the phone. The only reason she wasn’t there was ‘cause she wanted to stay with me. I moved to online school next week.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You squeeze her hand, “She sounds good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She…” She shakes her head; her voice is stronger now, but it’s still cracking. Your heart aches. “She wasn’t awesome, I think. She wasn’t there every day, but when she was it was good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I get it. Kasumi wasn’t fantastic all the time, either,” You reach up to fiddle with your ribbon, “The older we got, the more she insisted that people have to do things themselves. She was strong enough to say that, but… I needed help, sometimes, and we never really knew how to connect.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You sit there together, soaking in the grief and nostalgia; the two of you the only people in this dark library. You don’t know how much time passes; maybe an eternity, maybe just a couple minutes. You don’t bother keeping track. It’s not a sad moment, just… a moment. It’s nice; you like being together, like this, in your world but still linked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Futaba is the one who breaks the silence: “I want ice cream now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe we can talk Boss into some?” You suggest, “What kind? Strawberry, or you thinking something different?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm. Cookie dough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m okay with that, but…” You jerk your head to the outside, “We need to leave to do that. Are you ready?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She takes a deep breath, “Yeah. Just… stay close.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You nod, and shuffle out, pulling her along by your linked hands. “Ichinose-sensei was looking for you,” you add, remembering, “We’ve probably scared her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eh, she can deal,” She says, getting to her feet shakily, “I’m sure she’s had worse. Lettuce go!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You laugh, letting her drag you along. If you know it’s false bravado, well, you’re not telling. “Looks like I succeeded in my ‘fetch quest’!” You joked, pumping your free fist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Futaba snorted and shook her head, “That’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> not what that means, but nice try.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two of you leave the library behind, stepping into the hallway. The sounds of chattering students, lecturing teachers and scraping chairs penetrate the walls -- but the halls are hardly silent, filled with your giggling and jabs as you walk them, swinging hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Today wasn’t a total win, but it wasn’t a total loss, either -- and there’s always the rest of the year ahead of you, and you’ll walk along it, together.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this is my first time posting fic since i was 10 and also the first time im posting to ao3 Ever despite having had three different accounts on this godforsaken site let's hope this doesn't suck<br/>ichinose is a character from scramble. her making a cameo here doesn't really work but my fic my rules canon is already my punching bag<br/>you can find me @makosinnergy on both tumblr and twitter<br/>lemme know your thoughts, and have a nice day! nwn</p></blockquote></div></div>
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